Don't Tell
by siophiefandom
Summary: My take on an early bump in the Paily journey. No, not that one; earlier. It meanders away from canon pretty quickly. I'm not a writer, and I'm whatever the opposite of "creative" is. I just wanted to give something back to all the real writers out there. One-shot, mercifully short. At least it won't take up much of your time. And don't worry: I won't be doing this again.
1. Chapter 1

"_Like death by drowning, a really delightful sensation after you cease to struggle" – Edna Ferber_

It was a long practice. Good practice. The rest of the team has long since showered and gone. You stayed behind to stretch your muscles a bit. It's not that you need the extra work - even though you took time off from the sport, you're feeling good in the water. No, you're doing this for _you _now; swimming for fun.

Swimming always did relax you.

But now, you're wiped out, so you decide to call it quits for the day. A long, hot shower would feel good. That's all that's on your mind between the last few kicks and the moment that you pop your head out of the water -

Only to have it forcefully dunked back under - _what the fuck?_ You're scrambling; almost panicked as you force your head back above the surface, gasping for air as you see that it's _her_ - Paige Mc-Fucking-Cullers, yelling something about crying to the coach. Confused, you spit out some words in your defense before she forces your head down again. But you're Wayne Fields' daughter - Lieutenant Colonel Fields - and your overprotective dad has taught his only daughter a few things about self-defense:  
><em> Stay calm.<br>Think it through.  
>Leverage your advantages.<em>

You think it through: Obviously, Paige isn't trying to kill you. She just wants to scare you. She'll let you up again, and, when she does, you'll be ready.

You realize what this is about. You've caught the glances that she snuck in your direction. You've noticed how she averts her eyes in the locker room - looking at the ground; looking in her locker; looking at the paint on the walls - looking at anything rather than risking having to admit to herself that she likes looking at girls; that the wetness going on wasn't just from the pool and the shower.

You feel the pressure on the top off your head ease off, and you know it's time to act. In one swift motion, you deftly grab her by the elbow and catapult her into the pool. Paige is strong. Very strong. Spencer has told you of her legendary battles on the field hockey team. You've seen the way she powers through the pool, her muscled arms beating the water into submission. You've seen the flexing of her shoulder, back, and thigh muscles as she stretches out after a long session in the pool. There's no question that the girl is strong, but you're stronger – physically and emotionally – than people give you credit for. _Use it to your advantage, Emmy. _

And, right now, you've got surprise, momentum, and the weight of her now-soaked warm up suit in your favor as you use your body to force hers down under the water.

In a sense, you know what she's going through. You can remember life in the closet. You remember trying to come to terms with who you are; you remember the denial, the inner turmoil, the tears. It's no way to live, and you know she can't stay in there forever. Maybe you can hurry the process along with a little shock therapy. _Time to take one for the team, Emily!_

When you come back up to the surface, you're grabbing her collar in your fists as you kiss her hard. Her eyes are wide open in shock - shock that you're kissing her; shock that she's enjoying it so much. As you release from the kiss, you see her hands frozen in front of her, fingers spread wide in shock, as though she doesn't know what to do with her hands and is terrified to think what she might. You use your grip on her collar to pull her with you as you back up to where the water's shallow enough for both of you to stand with your feet touching the bottom of the pool. You reconnect with her lips, snaking your right hand into her hair and letting your left move lower, stroking up and down her back, showing her what _her_ hands could be doing. She catches on quickly, moving both hands to the bottom of your blue and black Speedo, caressing and kneading with lust and abandon. This is bigger than any of her fears. This is her once in a lifetime.

The kiss goes on impossibly long (You're both swimmers; you know a thing or two about breath control.), and, when it finally ends, you lean back with your elbows on the ridge of the pool, opening your eyes to see hers still closed, her lips and hands still moving as if trying to figure out where yours went.

When she opens her eyes, you greet her with a knowing smirk: _Your move, McCullers! _She's petrified, the way it feels in those dreams where you find yourself standing in front of the classroom stark naked, vulnerable, and exposed. Her mouth is wide open, but she can't speak. No need. You can read her every thought as it crosses her face, her brain starting to process what the hell just happened:  
><em> Oh God! How did she know?<br>Oh God! How long has she known?  
>Oh God! What if she starts telling people? She <strong>owns<strong> me now!_

For a moment, Paige is frozen in place. She knows what this feeling is: Fight or Flight. Whichever she chooses, her world is about to change. Hell – her world has already changed. Images bombard her mind: You and Maya, hand in hand, walking the halls of Rosewood High in slow motion. The life she'd like to dream that she could have. Her father, the deacon, wagging his finger at a Fox News story about _those people._ The life she knows she's stuck in. It's not a question of right or wrong, of her wants or fears. She knows the deal. She has no choice.

She begins backing away from you, mouth still wide open; eyes unflinchingly staring, as if to take in and commit to memory every pixel of this tableau. She slowly treads water until she gets about halfway across the pool, then turns, launching into a freestyle sprint at world-record pace. She scampers out of the water, tossing her head back in your direction just long enough to make one final plea before she dashes for the door: "Don't tell!"

You shake your head and chuckle once. You never will.


	2. Chapter 2

"_To have faith is to trust yourself to the water. When you swim, you don't grab hold of the water, because if you do you will sink and drown. Instead, you relax and float." – Alan Watts_

"I will destroy her."

"Spencer, chill. I'm a big girl. I can take care of this myself. Besides, you know what team hazing is like. I'm sure it happens all the time on the field hockey team."

"I know you're a big girl, Em. But I know you. You'll never stand up to Paige – you'll just sweep this little incident under the rug, act super sweet and understanding to her, and hope she forsakes the Dark Side."

"No! God, Spence, would you just trust me on this, _please_? We… worked it out, okay? It's not going to happen again. Just trust me – we're good!"

With the Spencer eyebrow raise, hands thrown in the air in surrender, and an exaggerated sigh, the discussion is over. Still, you can't help it that your mind takes you elsewhere, to thoughts of being… _hazed_ by Paige. You hope that no one catches the subtle quirk in your lips and the way your eyes shutter ever so briefly at the thought. Somehow, you know that you haven't heard the last of these poolside shenanigans.

A few days later, you find yourself feeling clumsy, uncomfortable, and full of nervous tension in the pool. It's after hours, and the team has gone. You're there because you know _she'll_ be there. After a less than stellar kick-turn, you're straining with all you've got to pull your long, lean body to the other end of the pool for one last lap, flailing against the water rather than moving at one with it.

You know what's coming. And your heart is pounding with anticipation.

You pull your head out of the water and just about get a full gasp of air in your lungs when her hand comes down; tentatively, almost tenderly on top of your head. You allow yourself to go with it, though for all intents and purposes, you're submerging your head yourself, frustrated at the lack of passion behind the other girl's actions. You come up again and she lightly eases you back under. You can't help it. Your frustrations get the better of you.

"Damn it, Aria, _really_ shove me down! Don't be afraid - you're going to hurt me! I'm not delicate. I won't break!"

"Spence, this is just too weird. I still don't know how I let you talk me into to this."

"Aria… Just – go with it. Please? Trust me," you all but whisper, dropping your tone seductively and continuing in a sing-song voice, "I'll make it worth your while…"

"Okay – how is this _not_ you fantasizing about Paige?"

"Aria…"

"No, Spencer. I saw the way you reacted when Emily mentioned the hazing that goes on with the field hockey team. Admit it: You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

"No!" You let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as she raises her eyebrow, skeptically. "No, Munchkin," you soothe, pleading, "– not about _Paige_, But, yeah – I have thought about, you know, being dominated, physically – by my _lover_. Not by Paige. And the fact that it's you makes it all the more intense, because…"

She waits for you to continue, becoming impatient as you try to find a diplomatic way to finish what you started saying before thinking how it would sound. "Because _what_?" she wonders, intrigued.

"Because, you're – well, you're not… physically, that is… Ugh. Let's face it: It's, well, just so out of character for you to be so… dominant, you know? God – just the thought of it drives me wild. But only –" (you grab her hand in yours and kiss her palm) "if you " (you place that palm on top of her head) "do it as though you really mean it!" (you tug her hand down with both of yours, to drive your point home).

She starts to giggle. "Oh my God, Spencer!"

"Aria, _pleas_e," you whine.

"Ugh! Fuck it! But, I swear, if anyone ever finds out about this, Spence…"

"NO!" you cut her off, "Oh, God, no one can _ever_ find out about this!"

"Okay," she concedes. "But I'm going to need a minute to get myself all Paiged up. Go back and do it again, and I'll be ready for you."

"Yeah. Never say that again, 'All Paiged up'!" you laugh as you hoist yourself out of the pool and practically sprint to the other side, eager to swim back to her one final time.

This time, she commits to it, and she's all barks and snarls as she shoves you forcefully under the water, putting you in your place, telling you what she wants to do to you – and what you're going to do to her. Oh, God, she's making you so hot. Before you realize how it happens, you're out of the water and tackling her onto the cold, hard tile, sloppily devouring her lips, her cheek, her neck, and grabbing wildly at her flesh in angry desperation. You've never been so turned on in your life, and, you can tell, she never has, either. She keeps up the Paigification for the duration of your passionate interchange, and it's like nothing you've ever done with each other before; as though you're fucking another incarnation of each other.

Only when it's all over and you're cuddling, both completely drained, does the giggling start up again.

"Damn it, Aria – you really know how to ruin a moment!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN **- So, I never thought I could write a one-shot, but here I am with a multi-chapter. Well, it's more like a chapter and a half, but that still counts as multi, right? :)


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